Good Luck, Berry
by diannasbacon
Summary: Written for Faberry Week Day 2: Zombie Apocalypse. Hinted character death.


**This is unbeta-ed. Fill in for the Faberry Week Day 2: Zombie Apocalypse. Enjoy!**

* * *

Zombies. Never in her entire life could she ever imagine herself living in the world chock-full of fucking rotten brain-dead nutjob zombies. Last time she checked, her mother was still alive. Her son-of-a-bitch father was still funding her.

Now, all she had was her Glee club. New Directions.

Quinn scoffed as she thought of her club's name. Didn't seem like there's a lot of direction for them now. Her eyes swept over the plain, the streets, everywhere as she stood on the roof of the abandoned shop lot they had made as a fucking safe house. Her finger ran over her shotgun's trigger, poised to pull whenever she saw a bloody zombie crawling near.

Santana might think she's being conceited and arrogant for insisting on being alone whenever she's on her shift. Quinn didn't bother to correct her. She needed time. To think. To prepare herself. She had no doubt in her head that somehow – someday – one of them was gonna die. Maybe even her. She wanted to prepare herself when that happened. Right now, she needed to be strong for the team.

She had to be.

Her eye flashed when three moving – flinching – figures coming towards their safe house and she lifted the shotgun, positioned it and aimed the nozzle at one of the zombies' head. She pulled the trigger. And pulled it thrice.

She hit them right in the head.

* * *

The shots rang out and all of them who were gathered in the main room looked up. Sam ran his hand through his greasy hair and took off his jacket, shaking his head. Everybody sighed. Everybody but one brunette. She just stared at the ceiling, a hint of longing in her eyes. Artie kept working on the radio. All they got thus far was static. And more static. They couldn't connect to the outside world.

Artie's walkie-talkie crackled, so did everyone else's. Quinn fished out her own from her pocket, waiting for Finn or Puck to give them the latest update.

"Supplies snatched. Both trucks are pumped. We've gotten two tanks of petrol. And we managed to snag some fresh clothes from the outlet store by the petrol station. Took out five goddamn deadies on our way," Puck's voice crackled through the speaker. "Any news there?"

"Took out three," Quinn reported.

"Radio's still dead," Artie reported grimly and Quinn closed her eyes, disappointed. Puck and Finn could only sigh. "Is there anything similar to a computer nearby?"

Finn looked around as he pressed on the pedal slowly. His eyes lit up when he saw a hardware store. "There's a hardware store. I might be able to grab a couple of stuff like that."

"No," Quinn quickly intercepted. They all stiffened at her commanding tone. "It's too goddamn dangerous. We can't have anybody die here." Her voice trailed off. They recalled Mr Schuester's unfortunate encounter three weeks ago. "Not anymore."

Puck and Finn looked at each other. The silence stretched out between all of them, connected only through the fucking walkie-talkies they took from the police station. "I'll risk it," Puck finally said, determined. "And you are not stopping me, Quinn. I'm getting the goddamn computer so Artie can figure out some way to get us out of this bloody hellhole."

"Be careful," Rachel's voice softly rang out. Finn and Quinn could only clench their jaws. Finally, she spoke. "I can't afford to have any one of you to die. Not even you, Finn," she added, reminding him of the end of their relationship just days after Mr Schuester's passing.

"We'll watch out," Finn responded. He paused for a moment and sighed. "Over and out."

* * *

Nighttime.

He watched from the makeshift lookout point just by the window. It was silent except for the crickets calling and some occasional moans ringing out from the streets. He preferred using his Glocks than those heavy as hell shotguns. The ammo provided at police station was also endless. Mike's hands tightened around his weapons when his mind drifted to Tina who was now probably sleeping in the tiny bedroom they shared.

His gaze never fazed. His focus never wavered.

He was gonna protect Tina from all those motherfuckers no matter what. Even if it meant him dying.

He remembered Quinn's order before she went to bed.

"_Don't even try to get out of the goddamn door or I will kill you myself_."

Her tone was cold and alarming. But he could see that she really was worried about their wellbeing. He knew she was particularly worried about a specific person's wellbeing. She might not think they noticed. But all of them noticed. The longing stares, the extra alertness while regarding each other. It was all obvious.

But at this moment, they didn't think it was important enough to point it out.

He hoped that somehow in their current state, Quinn would find love.

He didn't particularly remember when Quinn became the leader of them all. He didn't remember when was the last time he _actually_ talked to Quinn like a real person. He didn't remember when was the last time Rachel spoke until just now when she told him that she couldn't lose even him. He didn't remember a lot of things, not since he saw Burt and Carole lunging at them and he smacked them with a baseball bat. Kurt was crying. He definitely remembered that.

His heart ached when he remembered how he killed his own mother and watched his stepbrother wailed, keeling on the ground. But…she wasn't really his mother anymore, nor was Burt really Kurt's father anymore. They were just these lifeless bodies with brains infested with some goddamn virus, taking away their bloody senses and make them crave for meat. Human meat.

Finn shifted in his sleeping bag and tried to go to sleep. But his meddling thoughts, assisted by the annoying sounds of Puck snoring a goddamn pig next to him, kept him away from his much-needed slumber. He stared up at the ceiling and kept on thinking, thinking that thinking would bring him to sleep. He grimaced at his stupid thoughts. No wonder Rachel broke up with him, it was because he was too goddamn stupid. Also, she was in love with another person.

He missed her. He really loved her. But he guessed if she was not in love with him, why do this? It's just dumb. He let her go.

He hated Quinn initially. But after days of watching Quinn taking care of all of them with so much passion, he realized he couldn't hate her anymore. She didn't deserve anyone hating her. So he became civil with her. They talked when needed. They acknowledged each other.

Rachel was right. They really couldn't lose another one of them anymore.

* * *

Rachel couldn't sleep. She'd never been able to sleep these days. The only rest she'd gotten ever since this zombie thing came was a couple hours of nap per day. Nothing much. She just couldn't bring herself to sleep.

She rolled herself out of her sleeping bag and tiptoed out of the room, careful to not alert Blaine and Kurt. She stood in the empty hallway. The doors were closed, each with people sleeping inside them. She padded towards Quinn's bedroom. She lifted her fist but pulled back at the last minute. No, she wasn't going to disturb Quinn from her much-needed rest.

So she walked towards their storage room where they stored their weapons and ammos and supplies. She grabbed a power bar and her own rifle before making her way to the roof. She ate the power bar while standing next to Santana. She guessed Brittany's bunking with Quinn.

They acknowledged each other's presence but didn't say anything, just looking out at the creepy full moon hanging above them and also listening to the disturbing moans and groans of the living corpses walking in the streets.

It was disturbing to think they were living among these life threatening creatures. She didn't feel safe.

She never did feel safe except when Quinn's around.

"Do you think we'll get out of here?" Santana questioned quietly. Rachel wasn't surprised by the sudden voice but she was indeed shocked that Santana initiated a conversation. She turned to Latina. "Do you think we'll get out of here?" she repeated her question.

Rachel looked back out into the streets and the night sky. "I'm not too sure anymore."

Santana cracked a bitter smile. "Even the usually determined Rachel Freakin' Berry isn't sure anymore. We're so screwed."

Rachel mimicked the smile. "I stopped being a dreamer a long time ago, Santana. I'm facing the reality and reality tells me we're gonna run out of supplies soon and unless we wanna eat those zombies, we're gonna starve. And the ammos, I heard Puck said to Sam that the police station is running out. We have a time limit now. It all depends on Artie and our survival skills to keep on living or…we're dead."

"And you're not scared?"

"I'd rather die next to all of you than die alone."

"You haven't answered my question."

Rachel looked down at her gun and quickly shot down a zombie before putting it back down. "Yes, I am scared. But…like I said, if I get to die next to all of you – the people I love – I'll be happy."

"Especially when you're with Fabray."

Rachel chuckled. "That obvious, huh?"

Santana's smile widened. She straightened her posture and took out two followed by Rachel who took out three more. They lowered their firearms. "Good luck, Berry," Santana whispered.

* * *

**That ending sucks, I know. But it's also quite realistic. Use your imagination :)**

**By the way, check out my multichapter AU Faberry fic Sweet Vengeance. And remember to review! :D**


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